


Second Best

by MoonMoonFace



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Clone AU, Clone Jack, Clone John, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Every one died, Handsome Jack won and opened the vault, Jack Won Au, M/M, Past Jackothy, Past Rhack, Personal Assistant Rhys (Borderlands), Pseudo-Incest, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Self-cest, So is Nisha, They are Twins, Timothy Lawrence is dead, and Angel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-02-10 07:57:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18656233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonMoonFace/pseuds/MoonMoonFace
Summary: The warrior was summoned and set the world ablaze with a fire that never goes out. Jack has sent his men to secure the most vulnerable Hyperion facilities from its flames, there, in some long forgotten lab his team find something that should never have existed.AU: Jack won, is bitter and old with no one but his long serving PA and a rogue clone for company.





	1. Ashes of the fire

**Author's Note:**

> Dead Dove: Do Not Read

Helios was tilted East.

The Eye of Helios was no longer looking down at the border planet below, and so the residents of the space station were not able to see what burned beneath them.

But Handsome Jack could. Long ago his office was lit with hues and tints of blue and red from Elips. Now it was as bright as if it were facing the sun. It was a light that never went out, and so during most of the cycles, the shutters were down so he could have a moment of peace from the burning planet below.

The Warrior had succeeded; perhaps a little too well. It's fire never stopped. No method known to man could put out its flames as they swept across the planet.

Pandora had been burning for ten years.

Jack watched over Pandora for the first three years and, as progress on the mines automated, he stationed himself over Athenas; new vaults were calling to him. The king had returned only recently to his throne as the fire was threatening some of Hyperions older facilities and whispers of treachery had reached him; that his vision for Pandora was nothing but the utter failures of a mad man. 

The Warrior was faithful and burned down bandit camp after bandit camp, including the once famous Sanctuary. It was ironic, really, watching that Firehawk bitch burn alive. It left him laughing for days at the sounds of her screams. And, after Jack was finished celebrating, his precious PA didn’t walk straight for a week. The rest of the vault hunters were taken alive and now spent the last of their days in a high-security Hyperion prison. Some had taken their lives rather than be incarcerated; Typical bandit behaviour. 

No plan was perfect; once or twice the warrior's flames strayed and took a Hyperion settlement with it. This was one of those occasions. 

Jack waved a hand forward, searching the files recovered from the last facility. The men stationed there were more than a little rattled. Some echo logs were long lost-in-thought ramblings, others featured men putting a gun to their head and firing, most of them had little to no substance. 

Jack cleared his throat and sat upright; his PA was calling.

"Sir," Rhys' voice was a little breathless, strained even. "Turn the body cams on, operation Virgo-12, NOW."

Jack's teeth clenched as the request became an order, but he did as instructed. 

" _ Sir _ ," Rhys pressed. "Turn the feed on now."

"Alright!" he swiped away his current work and summoned the live record for the operation. There were seven body cams to choose from, Jack selected the leader's and activated the feed. There was a moment of static as the connection was made and Jack leaned back into his chair and kicked his feet onto his desk.

"Fuck! this is fucked!-" A voice called from behind sergeant.

The barrel of a rifle was aimed ahead amongst a dark room. There was a familiar glow of Eridium in the corners of the feed that revealed little a sparse and rusted hall. 

"Handsome Jack, sir, are you receiving?"

"Yes," Jack replied and rubbed at his eyes. 

"The main science division is secured, but sir, we found another lab down through a tunnel. My men are securing it now, but it appears –"

"FUCK!" Another man yelled from behind, and the sergeant swerved around making the feed blur. 

Tanks lined the walls, some of them filled with rotting corpses submerged in a dark green formula, while others had cracked and spilled there - presumably once alive - contents across the floor.

"The fuck went on down here!?" 

"Move out!"

Jack leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. The lighting was terrible, but the sergeant activated his torch and provided a bland commentary.

"I don't think anything is alive down here. Whatever this is, it's not Hyperion sanctioned. We've got ID's here on stolen and missing equipment. Sir, some of this dates back to twelve years ago."

Jack frowned and tried to recall what the science division was up to back then. It was mostly focused on charging the vault key and mining improvements. Who the hell was in charge of R&D back then?

The sergeant moved into a room cleared by his men.

"We've got no ID on what was in the tanks, too decomposed at this stage to tell."

The men moved through the darkness, their flashlights casting a pale beam of light on the world around them. The light fell on a rotting carcass that must have once been human but was now so scavenged by rats and time that it would be impossible to tell who it was anymore. A few men made a repulsed noise, and one of them commented on the smell. 

A sharp noise – metal rattling down at their feet – drew the view down to the sergeant’s feet. An empty tin can had been kicked.

"Something was living down here for a while." The sergeant commented while his boot toed what Jack recognised as long-past issue date digistructed meal. 

There was a panicked scream and one of the lifelines of the men went dead. The feed jerked upwards and faced the hall, but the flashlight scarcely pierced the dust and filth. 

Soon, a second scream came, followed by a third; both men went into shock with massive lacerations recorded on both their bodies. 

There was a sharp intake of breath from the sergeant and Jack paused, eyes narrowing at the dark feed. The camera swivelled towards the source of dying men and there, crouched by a shattered tank, covered in blood and armed with a shard of glass was a man.

His hair fell in matted knots to his shoulders, framing his ghostly, thin face like a cowl. Most unsettling of all were the eyes; pale and distant.

Jack recognized this man almost instantly. 

"No, no, no, no," Jack whispered and stood up so that his face was inches from the feed. 

“Identify yourself!” the sergeant barked. The man’s head turned towards them, giving the men a clearer view. They could now all see what Jack already suspected. 

The telltale chin.

The prominent cheekbones

Bi-coloured eyes.

The man before them was a 'Jack'.

The door to his office swung open and hurried footsteps came to his desk.

"Sir, it's alive," Rhys said breathlessly while holding a tablet to his chest. "What do you want to do?"

"Is it him?"

"It's  _ not _ Lawrence, sir."  Rhys' cut him off and closed in behind the desk.

Jack hissed but didn't break eye contact with the recording.

"A clone?” Jack muttered and closed his eyes, rubbing at his temple. 

"Yes, sir. It appears so."

Jack should probably kill it. After all, there was no need for another body double. The thing looked pitiful. It was hardly a comparison to the real Jack, being so thin and decrepit. Even a bullet would be a waste of lead on the thing.

“It’s not Law –”

“I know!” 

Rhys flinched but did not back away. Too many years of office stationery thrown across rooms and men air-locked had trained his PA’s composure.

" _ Jack _ ," Rhys' voice stressed the unspoken warning. They both knew where his mind wanted to wander. 

Jack couldn’t help it. The memory was too vivid, too intoxicating to ignore. When he snuffed the life out of another man who looked just like him, watching the final struggle as death took him.

"Jack. What do I tell them?"

At last, he took in a breath and gave his answer.

"Bring it here."


	2. Table Manners

"We're still decrypting Nakayama’s files," Rhys said and unlocked the medical chambers. "We know nothing of when the project commenced, ceased or who authorised it."

Jack snorted. "No one  _ authorised _ it, dum dum."  

Rhys turned and flashed him a calculated look.

Jack knew that expression well and raised his hands defensively.

"Rhysie, I swear I didn't sign off on the sicko's pet project, ok?"

His PA turned on his heel and marched into Jack's private medical ward. Rhys was pissed; Jack could tell since his ass didn’t swerve so much when he was in one of those moods. Jack shoved his hands in his pockets, sighed dramatically and followed.

The team he summoned was small and he already dreaded compensating the men for what they found for their silence. His airlocking days became a thing of the past when human resources became limited and finite. 

His own personal doctor and the head of R&D parted to let him through. In the center of the room and strapped upon a table by the head, ankles, and wrists was a clone or, to be more precise,  _ his _ clone. 

The thing was much younger than him. Jack hadn't been briefed on a date, but judging by the lack of grey in the hair and smooth rounder face features he was gazing down at his thirty year old self, maybe late twenties if he was being extra generous. 

"Has it said anything?" Rhys asked

"No, not a word." The doctor replied.

The clone's eyes were open and stared at the ceiling, they looked ‘dusty’, somehow and unfocused. Jack frowned in annoyance; stupid Nakayama couldn't even get the damn eyes right.

"It’s blind," Rhys leaned into Jack's ear.

"But it put up a hell of a fight," The sergeant was still present and was holding a hand to his stomach and bloody uniform. 

"How? It's blind and malnourished," Rhys scoffed and crossed his arms. “You are combat - trained men.” 

The sergeant spat on the floor. "It gotta been living down there for some time, the thing knew the layout and moved like it could see."

Jack rolled his eyes but he couldn't deny the tiniest flicker of pride at the knowledge that his broken-clone-self was a resourceful fighter. Apparently, it took out three men before they could taser it down. 

Jack stared at the thing on the table. It was fascinating really, if he added some toner muscle, gave the clone a bath, shave and haircut he would be looking at himself as if he'd just "got lucky" with his Pandora hunch.

Days when he was still called John. 

Jack's frown deepened and he leaned closer, Rhys moved in with him: such a protective little weasel he was.

The clone's breathing was laboured and rampant as if it was pushing through a marathon. 

"Ok, why is it heaving like that?"

"He has a higher than normal metabolism. Both his heart rate and breathing remain at a faster pace." The doctor waved a hand to the medical screen and Jack scowled. That would be handy as he thought about the extra knot he had to move up on his belt.

The clone hadn't blinked once, but that was least concerning as its freaky dead eyes now sat upon him. 

"I think he heard you." The sergeant said and Jack flashed him a dangerous look. His useless input was no longer needed. 

"Your job is done, get out."

The sergeant dismissed himself and marched out the door, swaying slightly. 

Jack turned back to the clone.

"Sup, broken-me, you hearing this?"

The skin around the clone's forehead strained under the restraints. It was trying to look his way. 

"We're about to do the full body scan, would you like to stay for the results, or have them sent to you?" The doctor smiled and said pleasantly like this was a damn annual checkup.

Jack stood up straight and clasped his hands behind his back.

“I’ll stay.”

“Very good, sir.” The doctor nodded and began the preparations.

“Really?” Rhys hissed in his ear, “are you sure you don’t have something better to do?”

"Nah, what could trump this?"

Rhys pulled away and opened his tablet.

"Fine, but I'm returning to work. Someone around here has to do something." 

Jack effectively ignored the passive aggressive remark as he turned, watching that round ass walk away.

The doctor finished setting up the scanner-drone and the device whirred to life. Jack took a step away from the surgical table and let the bot get to work. Turning to the screen on his left, he and the doctor watched as the scanned data presented itself.

"Lower body appears fine, though I'll need to run more tests to be sure. Abdominal area too."

"Yeah, that's a dick alright, wonder if the little guy ever used it?" Jack mused aloud. His doctor made no reaction to the comment.

"Liver, heart, lungs are good. Perfect bill of health sir."

More than what could be said for him, Jack thought begrudgingly.

"Ah – " the doctor paused and leaned closer to the scan. "His eyes are cybernetic, oh... Oh! His brain is heavily wired too!"

Jack spared a quick glance at the clone who still was intently looking in his direction.

"Idiots," Jack cursed the sergeant's assessment, "clone-boy ain't blind, it's cybernetics are switched off."

The man from R&D had his first opinion of the evening and it was as fruitless as the sergeants.

"Perhaps we should leave the good Doctor to her work?"

"Nah, scram." Jack waved a hand to dismiss his team.

"Sir?"

"Did I stutter? GET OUT!"

They scrambled out after that.  

"Pft," Jack sounded and rested his hands upon the table. "So other me, I suppose you recognised my voice. It's the only thing you've responded to. So I'll play nice." Jack cooed mockingly and unceremoniously jabbed a finger into the clone's temple. 

The thing didn't flinch but did struggle against the restraints.

"Where’s your port?"

The clone moved around what little it could and said nothing.

"Come on, answer me."

The clones lips trembled, and a single word escaped but not a sound came out.

"Ah goddammit, are you mute too? Blind, mute and dumb; fricken jackpot." 

Jack turned to the scans and searched for what was obviously well hidden. Nakayama wanted the real deal, so he supposed a visible port wasn't going to cut it. The search was a success and a tiny light popped up on the wrist of the clone's scan.

"Ah, noice."

The port was stained black and disguised among his black wrist tattoo. Jack had to remove the restraint on the clone's arm to access the port. He rather carefully inserted the Hyperion probe and made the connection to the cybernetics. 

"Voice command controls? Huh," Jack thought out loud. "Why didn't you say so; could've skipped the whole port thing, dumbass."

Jack huffed and typed in the instructions regardless. There was a lot going on in the kid's head but he didn't have the time or energy to unpack all that. Instead, he focused on the cybernetics in the clone's eyes.

"Done. A thank you would be nice." Jack rested both hands on his hips and turned back to his patient.

Eyes which had once been glassy and grey now turned a pale blue and green. For the first time, the clone blinked and looked away.

"Heya champ." Jack waved a hand in front of the clone’s face and grinned. 

The clone's expression did not waver, and so Jack was not prepared for the grabby fingers that found his wrist. The clone's free hand with the port had locked onto him and blunt nails dug into the skin.

"Fuck... little shit," Jack growled and tugged away.

The clone was strong, far stronger than it looked. Jack had to punch his hand hard into the clone's chest, winding it, to get his arm free. Shaking his red and raw wrist Jack backed away. 

"Little fighter, arencha?"  He was breathing heavily as he straightened his jacket. 

It was a long time since he'd encountered any form of resistance and the few people who had once stood their ground were long dead. Most of them by his own hands. Jack shoved his fists in his pockets again. Refusing to let his mind wander back to his double and old lovers, he returned to the clone's side. 

"THAT, wasn't very nice, kiddo. We're gonna have to work on those manners."

Jack moved slowly and reached for the clone's hand. This time it didn't fight back instead it just stared at Jack, again not blinking and allowed him to place it's wrist back into the restraint.

Jack clicked his tongue. 

"I'm going to send someone to hose you down and then we will see what to do from there."

And for the first time, an expression other than fucking nothing flashed across the clone's face.

"Oh, you don't want that?"

There was something comparable to fear on the clone's long pale face. A distasteful expression Jack did not care to ever see again.

"Too bad, buddy, you frickin reek."

And Jack left the medical room with clone desperately writhing on the table to be free. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have about 20k of this written so far. It's taken me a long time to get the courage to share this cause of um... the tags and stuff. So if you read it, please comment <3


	3. House Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeyyyy Thanks for sticking around! Enjoy the update :D

Jack threw his jacket onto the bench and strode into the living room, glad the day was finally over and he could fricken’ relax for once.

“What the hell? Who let you in here?” 

The damn clone was out of his med ward and was sitting on his couch. It sat upright, with its legs crossed. Overall the pose looked unnatural and almost robotic, like it didn't even know how to slouch or relax.

He unholsted his weapon and slammed it upon the kitchen bench, making sure it was in the clone’s line of sight.

"Butter for brains, answer me," Jack snapped and began to unbutton his collar. “How did you get out of the ward?” 

With his shirt open he snatched up his weapon and aimed at the clone. The thing didn’t even respond to the loaded pistol aimed at its head. It just stared curiously and when Jack asked again it raised both its wrists, revealing swollen and red flesh.

“You got out yourself?” Jack raised a brow and the weapon’s aim dipped a little. 

The clone nodded.

“Sneaky fuck,” Jack muttered but there was more amusement than anger in his voice.

The clone looked up at him and blinked, raising an eyebrow. It opened its mouth to speak, but only a silent word came out. Jack scowled and reached for his crystal tumbler. 

“Y’know what, nevermind."

Better to have the damn thing here than crawling all over Helios for everyone to see it in its sorry state.

He eyed his supposed double as he fixed a drink. The thing had balls and yes, Jack saw them intact on the scans, but it also had them in the figurative sense. To get out of those restraints, to hack or break the digistruct lock on its door and find its way here was something to admire. Despite those heroic qualities the thing still looked terrible. Even after getting hosed down, the clone stayed filthy. It didn’t help that it also looked very malnourished, sickly and wore a terrible beard.

“How on earth did Nakayawhats-his-face ever think you were me? You ever hear of protein kiddo?” Jack asked. The double remained silent and Jack huffed, taking a generous sip of his scotch. 

He'd already taken his meal in his office, a common routine between him and Rhys and it took him a moment to realise his fridge and quarters were rather sparse on food. Plenty of liquor, though. Jack tapped at his echo and ordered a weeks supply to the fridge. The contents of which were already digistructed by the time he swung open the door. 

"Get over here," Jack didn't bother to turn around and just lazily waved an arm in the direction of the clone. 

Quiet feet shuffled over and Jack pulled away to reveal dozens of pre-made meals.

"Pick whatever you want." He drawled and pushed passed the scrawny thing and headed for the couch.

Sprawling out like a cat, Jack slumped and took another deep swig of his scotch, eyeing the clone through his glass. He watched in amusement how his other-self searched through the fridge until it pulled out a digistruct meal from ‘Mr Parmer’s Hero Bakery’.

“Don’t eat that! Their name is a goddamn lie, they don’t know crap about baking” Jack yelled and the clone looked up but it did not seem deterred as it opened the meal, revealing a pile of waffles and cream. 

Rhys had cut that restaurant off his menu months ago, pissing and whining something about cholesterol levels. Despite the chiefs poor craftsmanship, Jack had opted to keep eating the bakery goods: he didn't have the time to cook like he once did. Or, rather, no one to cook for. 

“What ever, eat your crappy waffles,” Jack knocked back the last of his scotch. “Mine are way better, pumpkin,” and slammed the glass down to the side. 

The clone paused eyeing the meal in front of him and then looked up at Jack. He abruptly dropped the knife and stared at his empty hand.

“Frickin idiot,” Jack muttered under his breath before pinching his nose, “Eat, dammit!”

The second the order was said the clone dug in. 

Jack shook his head in utter frustration and slumped further into the chair. He’d seen and done weirder things in his lifetime. Fucking his double, for starters - his own copy down to the last hair - once held top place. Watching that handsome mug crane his neck and call his name had both been exhilarating and surreal, and yet somehow, watching this twig eat a stack of waffles was strangest of them all.

He’d often cook them up the morning after. When Timothy stayed –

Jack cleared his throat and leaned forward off the couch.

“Alright, kiddo.” Jack paused and realised he couldn’t keep referring to it as, ‘it’ or ‘kiddo’ forever. A name would be needed, but for now there were more pressing issues. “We've got to make a few changes.” Jack said, “Starting with your hair. It gives me nightmares just looking at you.”

The clones hair was matted and long, and would need more than a power hose to strip it of its gunk. Worst of all was the poor excuse of a beard growing across its jaw. 

Jack sighed irritability and stood up, glass in hand and walked back to the kitchen.The clone had an arm around its plate, as if guarding the meal. It’s chewing slowed and it lifted its head, eyes eerily focused on Jack’s face. 

Jack approached the bench.

“You are not staying here lookin like that,” He said and poured another drink. “And you're sure as hell not letting anyone see you, not while you’re putting my image to shame.”

The clone stopped eating and swallowed. It’s jaw tensed and its hands curled into white knuckled fists.

Jack scoffed at the display of fear and finished his second drink. When he moved behind the counter the clone flinched and appeared ready to flee, its whole body high - strung and ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

“Easy tiger,” Jack purred and slowly raised an open palm. “Not gonna bite.”

The clone stared at Jack's hand warily and shifted back on its stool, moving further into the corner of the kitchen.

"We're just gonna have a chat about house rules, hmmm? How does that sound?" 

The clone did not answer but slowly nodded its head in confirmation. 

"But first of all," Jack slid closer, his hand impatiently tapping against the marble bench. "How the freak did Nakayama make you?"

The clone merely shook its head.

"Nah, don't you silence me, boy." Jack's lip curled up. He’d had enough surprises, and there were too many pressing questions. "How did you escape my infirmary and get in here?"

More shakes and silence.

It went on like this for another ten minutes: Jack was drilling every question that itched at his mind while desperately trying not to resort to violence but the clone gave him nothing. 

“Dammit! Give me something here!” Jack slammed his hand upon the bench and the last of the clones confidence dwindled as it dropped to the floor. It shook and huddled into the cupboards to seek refuge against the cold metal walls.

“Get up,” Jack prodded the thing with the tip of his shoe, not wanting to make any more contact than necessary. He did not trust quarantine and who knew what other bugs or nasties were crawling over the clone. 

To Jack’s surprise it stood up without a word.

“You're awfully obedient.”

Jack pulled away from the pathetic human display in front of him and poured himself a third drink and, after some short consideration, gave the clone a smaller dose.

"Drink," He shoved the crystal tumbler into the thing's face and made for the living room. "And do not, for the love of God, break my tumblers."

The clone followed and sat on the largest of the leather couches. It took the glass with two hands and pressed the crystal to its lips. Jack cursed under his breath, already regretting wasting such luxuries on the thing. He pulled his gaze away and sat in his favourite chair, the very one the clone had been sitting in when he came home. That realisation came later and Jack decided he would have to disinfect both the clothes at the chair as soon as possible.

The clone was gagging after the first sip, tumbler slipping in its pale thin hands. 

"Hey! Goddammit, what did I just say?!" Jack glared and the clone hid behind its glass, blinking blearily. 

"Fuck. You’re a total mess. Did they even clean you before bringing you up here?”

The clone's eyes widened and what little mass it had, seemed to shrink into the couch, desperately trying to blend into the covers.

"Yeah. I'm so gonna burn that couch after you get up."

* * *

 

Jack buzzed him in. Rhys was needed at the apartment  _ now _ . Always now, at every whim of his stupid old brain.

"Yes? Sir?" He said it as curtly as possible; tonight he was all business and no pleasure. Not that Jack cared, Rhys grew out of his cute boy phase a couple of years ago and got too 'old' for Jack. He was actually getting hair on his chest, the idiot said. Rhys scoffed at the thought. That was coming from a guy who could stand to lose a few pounds and maybe trim his fucking man-forest once in a while.

"Come here, Twinkie, see what I have," The voice from the living room was full of himself, and Rhys made his eyes roll as he walked down the hallways clutching his tablet. The living space greeted him with a Jack, sprawled on a sofa like a king and a smaller, paler Jack, huddled on the other side.

"Yeah, looks like clone-me doesn't like handcuffs. Unlike someone, eh?" Jack snickered at his own wit. "Found him sitting here alone like he owned the place."

Rhys eyed the clone one more time.

"You do realise he was Nakayama's. Remember how much that eerie little grease-bag liked you? Do you really want,  _ that _ ," Rhys pointed a finger at the clone, "staying with you?"

The smile faded from Jack's face and was replaced by a grimace.

"How are the encrypted files coming, Rhysie?" he barked out sharply, his usual to go to when made uncomfortable. "I want to know what is on them. I want to know exactly what Nakayama was doing down there and I wanted to know it yesterday." 

Rhys sighed. 

"We have our best men working on it but he had things locked up tight. It's going to take some time to get through."

"It seems I’m paying all you idiots too much," Jack snarled, "You can't even do your friggin jobs right." 

"Can I go now?” Rhys asked, feeling the headache bloom in his right temple and being absolutely done with old man’s tantrums. “I'll update on any further developments on the files when they become available,"

"No."

Rhys concealed the growl in his throat. Jack relished every opportunity to keep him after hours, especially when Rhys set foot in his apartment.

"Clone-boy needs a bath, and I'm sure as hell not letting all of R&D see my dick."

Most of Helios had, considering the popularity of Jack's doubles in the brothels but Rhys kept that to himself. He supposed there was something terribly vulnerable and pathetic about the clone, and Jack's PR team would have to work overtime to undo the damage if an image of that scrawny thing got out. 

"Fine," Rhys sighed and began to remove his coat and roll up his sleeves. “But you’re paying me overtime, for once.”

* * *

Rhys had unceremoniously thrown his towels across the floor to soak up the water. Each squelching step reminded Jack of time and resources wasted.

"Get in the fricken bath!" Jack shoved a finger towards the water, wavering a little from the anger boiling within. He could not believe he had to do everything himself. Did he not pay his old boy-toy enough to take care of this?!

The clone was pressing himself as far into the corner as humanly possible and shook its head, strands of greasy hair moving along with him, infuriating jack even further. He turned to Rhys, who was lingering at the doorstep, the remaining towels still in his cybernetic arm while his flesh hand pressed to his cheek where a scratch bloomed rapidly.

"You had  _ one _ job," Jack hissed. "And that is to put this piece of meat in the tub and make it scrub itself!"

"He scratched me!" Rhys fired back, irritated. Their past allowed him such frivolities as talking back to THE Handsome Jack. "Did you see his nails?? I might get fucking tetanus and die or something. Do it yourself if you so care."

The man twirled on the heels of his boots and disappeared, leaving Jack stewing in his own impotent rage and the only source he could direct it was this thing with  _ his _ face cowering in the corner.

"Get in the bath. NOW" Jack raised his voice further and when the clone did not move he had enough. In one swift motion, he was by the thing's side, grabbing it by the collar and yanking it upwards. it was not a difficult task. The clone was thin and famished from surviving on its own in Nakayama's facility and it had wasted most of its energy fighting off Rhys.

"Up you go kitten!" With those sweet words and syllables shaking from rage, Jack pushed the thing towards the bath so hard it tumbled forwards. With hands outstretched  it grabbed at the edge of the tub, falling to its knees with a loud sob.

"P - Please... Please n-no..."

The whine was almost inaudible but Jack heard it alright as the thing sobbed and sniffed, tears rolling down its dirty cheeks. it was his own voice: thin and broken, hoarse from disuse but it was his.

"Oh, so you  _ can _ talk," he stated flatly, eyeing the squirming mess on the expensive tiles.

The clone bowed its head and hid under its own arms. 

"Bath. Now."

The whimper was louder this time. 

"I  _ will _ hurt you." Jack hissed and grabbed the clone by its hair and jerked its head back. Glaring down at his own pathetic, younger, and weaker expression. The clone was sobbing, so much so that Jack could not hear it's pitiful pleas. 

When the clone made no motion to move he yanked it to its feet and shoved its head towards the water.

"GET IN!"

"Not this! Please No –"

"FUCKING USELESS – "

The clone scrambled and kicked, slipping on the wet tiles and falling face first into the large ceramic bathtub. Jack lept back but did not miss the wave of water lapping over the side and drenching his shoes. The clone breached the surface gasping for air, and like a drowning cat, it scrambled at the sides of the tub to escape. 

"Oh, no you don't." Jack marched over and shoved the clone back under the water. 

Two pale hands reached out of the bubbles and scratched at Jack's arm, water spewed everywhere, soaking his shirt and pants. 

Already the water was lined with a thin sheet of oil and Jack screwed his face up. When the clone came to the surface a second time he raced for the other side of the tub. Jack swiped forth but only grab a handful of bubbles.

He pulled away and paced around to the clones escape route, with its path blocked the clone scrambled back to the other side. This back and forth only lasted once more before Jack was ready to draw blood. 

"Oh, this is real cute, kitten. But I am not in the mood!"

"Not in the tank! Please!"

The stupid thing had only said the same thing for the last ten minutes. 

"What?!" 

The clone was hiccupping and bubbles coated its shoulders as it cried the same line.

"You're not in a tank, kiddo."

"Not.. the-the tank." 

Jack hissed and rested his hands on his hips.

"Just enjoy the fucking expensive perfumes and warm water, like a normal fucking person." 

The clone hiccuped again and raised its head. Scared Bi-coloured eyes found his and Jack had to break away first. He'd seen that look before. A ten-year-old Jack, staring at his own beaten face in the mirror while his dear, sweet, granny broke down the door.

He did not want to remember, but memories were fickle like that. Seeping back when least wanted. 

"Fine! We'll do this the hard way." 

Jack kicked off his shoes, threw his jacket and sweater overhead. Down to his dress pants and shirt, he stepped over the threshold of the tub and sank down the side.

"See? Fucking fine. I'm alive and so are you." 

The clone didn't hear him or didn't care. It turned and launched itself for the edge of the tub. 

"You are not staying in here filthy!" Jack grabbed it by the hair and drew it close. The clone kicked and struggled against his chest and Jack's growl grew louder.

"Stay still." 

With one arm wrapped around his younger body, he reached for the shampoo with the other. Opening the cap one handed was something he hadn't done in a while, the last time he'd had someone up against his chest in a bath was Rhys. And his hand had most certainly not been restraining him that time; it sat lower, much lower between their legs.

"See not that bad." Jack spread his fingers and rubbed the shampoo across the clone's scalp and every touch elicited a flinch.

"... tank...", the thing muttered to himself like some sort of a weird mantra.

"Oh my freaking god, _ shut up _ ," Jack snapped and dunked the clone under water. 

Despite the warmth, it was shivering when it came to the surface. Hair flat against its neck and shoulders huddled in the pale clone shook. Jack pressed his lips thin and studied the flesh that disappeared under the clone's medical garment.

"Take it off."

Finally, the clone had an order it knew how to obey. It shuffled away from Jack, leant forward and pulled the sopping wet material over its head.

Jack couldn't withhold the small sound of surprise as he saw the clones back. The clones back was identical to his own; right down to the very last scar, and he knew enough to know you can't clone scars. 

Those had to be inflicted. 

Jack growled and his hands curled under the surface. 

Sweet Granny had seen to it that no one saw the marks she inflicted on him, and so, her buzz-axe always landed on his back. The scars on the clones back were raised and the skin still white, just like his, and just like Timmy's.

Jack lifted a hand above the surface and traced the worst of them down the clones back.

"Is this why you don't want to bath?"

The clone shook its head. 

Jack's lips skewed in disdain. 

"I know you can talk. So quit the silent act." He said and dragged a nail down the clones spine. "Who did this? Was it Nakayama?"

The clone only shivered in response and it's back rubbed against Jack's chest. Sighing, Jack resigned that questions could come later.

"Here, use this." He grabbed a sponge, coated it very generously with soap and held it up in front of the clone. 

The clone tilted its head and glanced back at him questioningly.

"Oh, fucking hell, do you not know how to bathe?!"

The clone turned back around and took the sponge and began to wash under its arms and across its chest. The clone's body moved against him as he washed and Jack purred.

"Good kitten." He regretted it almost instantly.

He needed to leave. Now. This was no longer dragging up memories of his time with Rhys. Someone else, even longer ago had leant against him just like that, put on a show and bathed for his pleasure.

"Don't you frickin drown on me."

Jack abruptly stood up and the clone slipped; falling under the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeyyyy Thanks for sticking around! Hope you're digging the story so far. More clone adventures to come!  
> Don't forget to kudos and comment if you read this far :D X
> 
> Oh and I have another Rhack and Timmy fic called **[King of Lambs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15477012/chapters/35928159)** in case you wanna read something else ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> King of Lambs - Summary:  
> Separated at the age of three for being born the wrong endotype, John finds himself on his twin brother’s doorstep in desperate need of aid. Together Timothy and John sign up for a life as Jack Lawrence and flee from those who would have Angel for themselves.
> 
> 12 years later, Jack is CEO of Hyperion, a ruthless ruler intent on erasing his omega status and his ‘breeder’ history.
> 
> Timothy just wants to be a good Dad, and Rhys makes a plan to bang his boss.


	4. For Company

The one thing Jack had learnt from his string-bean other self, was that it liked to follow orders. The clone woke when ordered to get up, sat where instructed to sit, and ate what it was told to eat. Jack rarely had breakfast but had decided to indulge just to gleefully watch the clone follow his every action or command. 

Clone-boy was at the waffles again and generously covered them in maple syrup.

"Is this your first time ever eating breakfast food, or what?" Jack scoffed as the clone shoved mouthful after mouthful in.

The clone paused from its meal to look up and slowly it nodded its head.

Jack frowned, just how many other luxuries had the thing been exempted from?  Grooming for a start. The beard on the clone was terrible, it was a painful reminder as to why Jack didn't grow facial hair beyond a small styled patch in his youth. 

"Finish up," Jack said with a slap to the kitchen bench that made the clone jump. "I'll be right back."

He left the kitchen and made for his digistructing unit in the hall. He typed in 'men's grooming kit' and hit enter. A small leather satchel digitised in the containment and he snatched the bag out. It had been a long time since he'd had a shave; R&D had shoved enough drugs into his face that unwanted hair growth was now stunted. A blessing really, he couldn't have stubble under the mask.

He returned to the kitchen to find the clone onto its second batch of waffles.

"Seriously cut it out, or you'll ruin that body."

To be fair, the thing was malnourished, but it wouldn't take many days of pigging out for it to go past the toned and slender look and into the puppy-fat realm.

Jack would rather not see that happen to his body a second time.

"Come're, handsome and sit."

Jack curled his finger and beckoned his other-self to approach, and yet worry pulled across the clone's features, ruining what should be a perfect face. 

Jack could fathom what he'd done to provoke the damn thing and honestly didn't care. He pointed to the space in front of him, and still, the clone did not move. Save for the bath the incident, the clone had been rather obedient. Now the thing looked ready to flee once again.

"Move it," Jack snarled and tapped his foot to the ground. Patience was not a virtue when you were CEO of a billion-dollar company, and he had none to spare for the cowering pale mess in his kitchen. 

If he hadn't seen the clone's lip's move, then Jack may never have registered the quiet words that slipped out. 

"What did you say, pumpkin? Gotta speak up." Jack growled and began to untie the grooming satchel. A razor blade was removed, and Jack made sure the clone saw it.

"Don't call me handsome." The clone blurted out, and Jack blinked dumbfounded. 

Jack drew his hand away from the razor and marched around the bench. He crossed his arms, resisting the urge to touch the clone; he did not like seeing such a vulnerable expression on his face. 

"Why not?" Jack said quietly.

“Just… don’t.” The clone pleaded, and Jack's jaw tightened.

“How about you offer up a few more details there,  _ handsome _ , and maybe I’ll stop calling you that.”

He'd waited long enough, even offering this clone his patience. He deserved some damn answers. 

"It's not my name." The clone finally said, with cool confidence, turning it's once timid voice into a snarl. 

Jack raised a brow and closed the distance between them so that the clones resting knees were pressed to his thighs.

"Oh? So you have a name?"

The clone glared up at him, and Jack could practically see the cogs turning behinds its bright cybernetic eyes.

"It better not be  _ my _ name, kiddo. There's only one handsome Jack."

The clone bowed its head in submission, losing the battle it finally conceded and said its name.

“John.” The clone squeezed out and curled its hands into fists. “I was named John.”

Jack made a stressed sound and ran a hand through his hair, leaning against the bench. 

That was an answer he wasn’t expecting. His old given name; the one he abandoned as soon as he created his new life. It was the ‘lesser’ of his selves, one he meant to keep buried in the past, too painful of a reminder when he was subservient to lesser men. 

“Why on earth were you given that name?” Jack muttered under his breath, “weren’t you created to be me?” He asked and impatiently kicked the leg of the stool to snap the clone’s attention back onto him. 

The clone, no, wait, John merely shrugged. 

“Oh no, kitten, no more shrugging and weird muttering, I’ve welcomed you into my home the least you can do is give me some answers.”

John said nothing, and his gaze glanced at the plate of unfinished waffles.

Jack sighed and lent off the bench.

“Whatever, eat, dammit.”

John dived back into his meal and silently chewed as Jack returned to the grooming kit.

“But after you’re done eating, we’re fixing that face, and you and I are gonna have a little chat, sound good?”

Predictably, John said nothing and finished his meal. Jack left to fetch a basin of water, normally he'd have a service bot do it, but there was something alluring about giving his own face a cleanup.

“Alright, let's try this a second time. Come here and bend your head over the bowl” Jack jabbed a finger over the basin.

This time, John obeyed. He quietly slipped off his stool and slowly walked around the bench to Jack’s side. John had been sitting for so long that Jack forgot the height the clone had. His own bi-coloured eyes were level with his, and Jack felt a tight grip squeeze over his heart. Only one other had been this close with those same eyes.

His Timothy. But that man was long gone.

Jack cleared his throat and gestured to the basin of water again.

“I don’t want your hair getting everywhere. So bend over,” Jack said, and the clone followed obediently. John lowered his head over the bowl of water, and yet his pale shoulders shook as his chin hovered an inch above the surface.

A wicked grin stretched across Jack’s face as he grabbed a handful of hair and shoved the clone beneath the surface. Bubbles blew over the basin and John shoved his hands against the bench to push himself away, but Jack straddled around his back and held him firmly in place until all his hair was soaked. 

After pulling John out, Jack wasted no time and began snipping off long pieces of hair. A brush, not a comb, was used to tease away the snarls that had formed from months of neglect.

“That’s better,” Jack cooed as John reeled in long strangled breaths. “Let's get this nest looking presentable.”

Grooming his other-self was a far longer task than he initially thought, and he had to stop midway to fetch another cup of coffee. The clone stood soaking wet to his shoulders with his arms crossed as he waited for him to return. John did not complain, but his eyes were not the eyes of a man who would wanted to submit. There was a ‘Jack’ in there somewhere.

He trimmed the hair shorter than his own, and once it appeared respectable, he took a step back to admire his handiwork. 

“You’re looking better already, kiddo.”

While the clone’s hair still hung limp without Jack’s signature swoop, he did look a great deal more Jack-like without the tangled mane. He picked up the basin and took it to the kitchen and sink and dumped it down the drain. It would be hell on the plumbing, but Jack’s job wasn’t to care about something like that. 

He turned the water hot and washed off the shears and comb while the clone watched the water flow away. Curiously, Jack flicked a bit of water, and the clone took a startled step back. It seemed John's 'bath time' hadn't eased him up on water.

“Time for that chat,” Jack said and dried the sheers with a dishcloth. “Why the scaredy-cat act around water?”

John shook his head, and Jack flicked more water at him, scowling as the clone leapt back. 

“How the hell are you gonna bathe if you freak out like this? Cause I am NOT going through  _ that _ again,” Jack rasped while remembering how he had to climb into the tub to hold John there.

John was breathing heavily, and his gaze darted to the sheers on the bench and then back up to Jack. That bright feral gleam was back in the clone's eyes, and so Jack picked up the scissors before they became a weapon.

“Sit  _ down _ .” 

The clone obeyed but did not stop shaking. Perhaps it was from the cold? Jack sighed and left to fetch a towel but took the grooming satchel with him. 

When he returned, John was hugging his shoulders. Jack threw the towel over the clone’s head and rubbed at the scalp, more free strands of hair fell to his shoulders, and when he pulled it away, he appeared years younger. With his hair fuzzy and standing on end, he looked almost normal. 

“Don’t move,” Jack commanded and pulled up a chair in front of the John. 

The clone immediately crossed his hand over his lap and became rigid. Jack raised a brow. The clone's response was a little too premeditated for comfort. 

"Nakayama make you sit around a lot?"

The clone gave the smallest of nods. 

"You do anything else?"

John didn't respond.

Jack's tongue ran over his teeth, but he dropped the subject and opened a jar of shaving cream. He lathered it over a brush and held it to John's chin. The clone just stared down at it bewildered but did not move.

"Good boy," Jack said and began to apply the cream.

There wasn’t THAT much of a beard, but there was enough that it hid most of John’s prominent features.

“Now, stay VERY still,” Jack warned over clenched teeth. He picked up the razor and with one finger, he tilted John's head to the side and carefully let it run up his cheek.

“Stop shaking, dammit,” Jack cursed as the blade nicked the skin and blood beaded across John’s cheek. Jack grabbed the towel and dabbed at the cut. John said nothing, not even a flinch. Water caused the clone to withdraw and become a shell, and yet pain seemed to barely register on the kid's face.

Jack reapplied the cream and returned to his work, while John stared back unblinking with those cold dead eyes of his. 

“Why did Nakayama make you?” Jack asked wearily and slid the blade across the other cheek.

“For company,” John answered, and Jack’s hands stilled. 

“What  _ kind _ of company?” Jack asked as the blade hovered over John’s cheek. 

John swallowed, and his Adam apple bobbed in his throat. 

“I don’t know.” John finally answered, “I was never alone with him.”

“Do not  _ lie _ to me,” Jack drew the blade to John’s throat and kept it steady. “I don’t like it when people lie.”

“He had other Jack’s for that” John answered without a lick of fear for the knife at his throat.

“And them?”

“Dead,” John replied, flatly.

Jack took the razor away and discovered his hands were shaking. He stared down at his lap and took a deep breath. There were plenty of ‘other’ Jack’s out there doing all kinds of vile things for easy cash; the Helios Pleasure Palace was full of it, and not once had the idea of someone fucking his image had unnerved him.

But it did now.

Warm fingers wrapped over his palm, catching him off guard. John held his hand, but Jack did not appreciate the uninvited touch. He yanked his hand away.

“Let’s finish up,” he said and drew the razor back to John’s chin.

* * *

Jack hadn’t come into work for two days, and that was two days too many. He NEVER missed his weekly board meetings and loved the opportunity to gloat or to fire his employees too much, and yet Rhys had covered for him.

He was almost at Jack’s apartment. It took half a dozen security checks to get there, and each time the process seemed to drag on longer than the last. Years of Jack’s paranoia had added layers and layers of security. Now Rhys was the only one to approach and enter the penthouse.

He let himself in and headed for Jack’s home office, finding it empty he changed course to the living room; that was vacant too.

“Jack!” Rhys called out.

There was an echo of a reply and Rhys followed the sound to the far end of the apartment.

“Over here, pumpkin!” 

Rhys rolled his eyes at the pet name and entered Jack’s personal medical ward.

The clone was sitting on the table with his sleeves rolled up slightly, and a wire plugged into a cybernetic port. Jack was stood by his side, typing away at the screen of the computer. The clone sat dressed in t-shirt and jeans, both of which hung loosely around his hips and ankles, and his hair was now styled to match Jack's. But what stood out the most was the clone's gaze. He was silently watching everything; glancing around the room, letting those sharp eyes of his take in everything that they could. 

It reminded Rhys of a time when Jack wasn't unhinged and old. When he still had all of his ambition and hadn’t become completely embittered by the world. It reminded Rhys of the man he fell in love with years ago, and yet there was something more about this clone, something Rhys couldn’t quite figure out. 

He shook his head, dismissing his thoughts and instead crossed his arms.

“Why is it still here?” Rhys demanded and paced to Jack’s side. “You should have sent it to R&D!”

“I told you, I’m not letting those pricks see my prick,” Jack shrugged and did not avert his attention from the keyboard and computer in front of him.

Rhys ground his teeth together but said nothing.

The clone hadn't stopped staring at him. Perfectly sharp cheekbones stood on either side of bright bi-coloured eyes. It appeared even younger than Rhys had first guessed. Maybe late 20’s? 

Ignoring the clone, Rhys approached his boss. 

“Whatever you’re looking for, just send it to R&D to find.”

“No way,” Jack said, and more code flew past on the screen. “John, here –”

“You named him John?! Rhys said flabbergasted.

“No, he had the name already,” Jack replied with a grunt and closed the computer off. “He can’t go to R&D, his whole head is cybernetic.”

Rhys did not follow and crossed his arms, waiting for Jack to continue.

“What if they shove bat-shit crazy code into him?” Jack said and shoved Rhys aside. The clone, or rather, John, silently raised his wrist in front of Jack, allowing him to remove the Hyperion probe from his port. 

“Jack, this is insane, what if it hurts you?”

“Can’t do, pumpkin,” Jack twirled around and flashed him a bright know-it-all grin. “Johnny here has some laws he needs to follow.”

Jack threw an arm over the clone and drew it close to his chest. 

“He can’t hurt me, it’s all programmed in his little head. I checked it myself.” Jack beamed and ruffled the clones hair. The clone frowned but didn’t protest to this treatment. 

“Where is he going to stay?” Rhys asked. 

“Right here!” Jack said, “I’m not about to send him off where some lowlifes can accidentally run into him."

Rhys' glared, and Jack scoffed.

"Don't sweat it, he’ll get one of the spare bedrooms.” 

Rhys pursed his lips and pretended to consider Jack's lunatic proposal.

“Just be careful, Jack," Rhys said and shifted close to his boss, moving so he stood between Jack and  _ John _ . "We don’t know much about him yet."

“It’ll be fine, cupcake." Jack beamed and unceremoniously ruffled Rhy's hair, just as he had done to John. 

* * *

The mattress shifted, and Jack groaned, waking from his deep sleep. He stretched his muscles and winced as his calfs ached from the long day. Mind hazing with sleep, he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes again.

Cool air shifted under the covers, and Jack clutched the blanket drawing it closer. Yet, the sheets snagged on someone beside him.  

"Rhysie, not now," Jack murmured and pawed at the body beside him "Daddy needs his beauty sleep."

The mattress shifted once again, but the figure beside him did not leave. Jack rolled over, head bowed, and eyes still closed.

"Rhys," he mumbled and blindly groped beside him. Rough fingers found exposed skin and Jack ran them down his old boy-toy's back. Where Jack expected baby smooth skin, he found familiar lines of abuse and scars of the past.

"Timmy?" Jack opened his eyes. A toned back, dark hair over broad shoulders laid in the bed beside him.

Jack threw himself up and hit the lights. Jumping out of bed, he stumbled against the wall as the sheets clung to his legs. 

The clone was in his bed. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” Jack shouted and kicked his cramping leg free from the covers. 

John blinked sleepy and opened his eyes. He stared at Jack patiently and did not utter a word or an excuse for venturing out of his room.

“You,” Jack seethed and took a step towards the bed, “have two seconds to get out of this room.” Jack curled his hands into fists and shook with an unstoppable fury. “Or I’ll paint the walls red with your jaw.”

John sat up and bowed his head like a dog caught stealing from the pantry, but he did not make any motion to move.

“ _ Now _ ,” Jack hissed and picked up his echo and threw it the far wall, shattering it into pieces.

John scrambled to his feet and hurried out of the room, leaving Jack reeling from what to make of this whole exchange. 

“Sick bastard,” he muttered to himself, half-consciously rubbing at his fingers to somehow rub away the feeling he got from touching Nakayama’s plaything. First thing tomorrow, he needed to put new locks on his doors. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey, hey, thanks for reading and sticking around. Comments are a writer's bread and butter and are much appreciated! 
> 
> I'm also curious to hear of ant theories you have >:)


	5. The Labs -001

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clone flashbacks.

It was like coming out of a deep sleep, slow and gentle his eyes fluttered open and he saw the world around him. Everything was strange, yet familiar. He was filled with knowledge, but no memories to call his own. He didn’t even have a name. 

His body felt like it was filled with lead. He tried to raise his arm but found it was stiff and numb. Was he drugged? Groaning, he tried to heave himself up but only ended up falling back again a cold hard surface. He closed his eyes and felt a sharp jolt of pain along his nerves. 

"Hey, take it easy," another man said and warm fingers wrapped around his wrist. "It took me a while to come too."

He opened his eyes and found a shirtless stranger standing over him. 

"Wh-what?" He slurred. 

He was definitely drugged, but slowly the haze was lifting and he could see more clearly. They were in some kind of lab, but he could not tell if it was for medical or scientific purposes. After some help from the stranger, he sat up and realised both he, and the other man, were naked.

“Who are you?” he demanded the stranger and the stranger blinked. 

“I don’t know,” the stranger said and crossed his arms. "Who are you?"

The stranger had him there. He had no idea, not even a name.

The man with no name rubbed at his forehead hoping the massage would bring the memories forth. What happened before this? Who was he?

Though he could not picture his own face he could study the stranger in front of him. The other man had thick brown hair, tan skin, and a strong jawline. The most unusual feature were the two mix-match eyes; one blue and the other green.

The stranger noticed him staring and a red tint swept across the other man's cheeks.

"I don't recognise you." The stranger said and the blush on his cheeks deepened.

He had no reply to that.

The man with no name looked down at himself and realised his skin was the same tone as the strangers, as well as his build. There was something eerily familiar about the two of them that made the hairs on his arms stand on end. 

"What colour are my eyes?" he asked.

The stranger’s brow knitted together and he took a hesitant step towards him. 

"Odd," the stranger said, "you have one blue and one green."

"Yours are the same."

“Really?” The stranger ran a finger over his cheek bone.

Were they brothers? 

Before he had time to process this idea, the door opened and footsteps approached. The stranger squared his shoulders and stood in front of him, shielding him from whoever was nearing.

 

A masked man strolled in; his face was strikingly similar to the strangers, though, the largest difference being the metal clips on his chin and forehead, and the large streak of grey in his hair.

“Morning, champs!” The man in the mask exclaimed, “You two must be friggin’ confused.” 

The two naked men stared at each other, then back at the man in the mask, and nodded. 

“The name’s Jack." The masked man beamed and rested his hands on his hips. "And I’m going to pick one of you two be the next Jack."

"The next Jack?" The stranger asked.

The man who called himself Jack snorted. 

"Yeah, listen closely dum dum, I won't repeat myself. One of you is a Jack and it's my job to find out who."

"What about the other?" The man with no name asked. "What's their name?"

"We'll get to that," and Jack winked. "Now stand side by side, I don’t have all day.” 

Unsure of what else to do, the two men stood up as Jack strolled up to them. Jack checked the stranger first while no-name looked on. Jack’s hands ran up and down this double’s body, checking every inch. 

It was rather intrusive and at one point the stranger snapped and shoved Jack away. 

"That's enough touching." The stranger snarled. This did not seem to phase Jack, who just gave the stranger a thoughtful stare before turning to no-name.

“Cool it, I’m moving onto your twin.” 

The stranger spared him a puzzled stare at the mention of 'twin'. Jack’s attention turned to no-name, and he fell under the same intense scrutiny.

Fingers warmer than he expected pinched the skin on his stomach.

"Not bad, but there is more fat than there should be," Jack said and No-name scowled. 

When Jack went to examine his jaw, no-name pulled away as did his 'twin' and stood closer to the other man. 

He did not want to be touched or inspected by this 'Jack' but with no way out and no options but to progress forward, he stood still as the man prodded and inspected the rest of his body. 

“Two perfect specimens. Nakayama’s going to be pleased. That is, if there’s a brain on those thick skulls. Let’s test it, shall we?” 

Jack began peppering them with questions. They started off basic queries; testing their knowledge on facts, but slowly grew more and more into critical thinking and problem solving, asking them complex math and programming questions. 

Soon the stranger was falling behind, as he – the man with no-name – answered the questions with ease, solving complex programming problems in his head. Jack’s eyes narrowed as he watched him until Jack finally waved his hand for them to stop.

“Alright, enough. Now for the most important part; Let's see those dazzling smiles of yours,” Jack said, grinning wide. The stranger did so without hesitation. No-name, however, was growing irritated with all of these questions and demands. 

“What makes smiling so important?” He asked and Jack’s eyes darkened, but he held his smile. 

“Just show me those teeth, pumpkin,” Jack said. Reluctantly, he obeyed, copying the wide grin. 

“Alright, I know who the next Jack is, this guy, right here,” Jack pointed to the stranger. “You’ll be Jack.

No-name frowned, “who will I be then?”

Jack sowled and screwed his face as if no-names words were a foul stench.

“You’re a John,” he said. “While you may have answered those questions quickly, your twin over here had more charm; Charisma! John’s a little code monkey, Jack runs a company. John obeys others, Jack has others obey him. You’re just not cut out to be a Jack right now, princess. Better luck next time.” 

Jack walked over to the side of the room and pulled out two stacks of clothes. He handed the new Jack nicer, neater clothes complete with a dress shirt, vest, jacket, and dark, crisp jeans, while John was handed a worn sweater, a patchy jacket, and threadbare pants. 

John abruptly became aware of the draft in the lab and quickly dressed while the old Jack fussed over the newer Jack’s outfit, stating that it had to be perfect. John pulled up his pants but felt something odd in his pocket. A piece of paper was inside, and he was about to pull it out when the old-Jack glared at him and shook his head slightly.

John removed his hand.

They followed the old-Jack through the hallways, taking in the sparse scenery. White walls, tile floors, fluorescent lights. John curled his nose at the sight. They stopped at a door which slid open.

"This is your bedrooms, champs. Jack gets the bed on the left," the old Jack said. 

The room was as empty as the hallway, aside from two beds on either side, a door leading to a bathroom, and two small drawers. Jack's quilt and pillows looked pristine, while John's looked rundown and warn. 

"Go on, get a good look at everything. Lots to see, I know. Very homey. I'll give you two a bit of time to explore before I come back for your lessons, sound good? Of course, it does. Ciao," And with that, Jack left them, the door slid shut with a click. 

John immediately went to the door to see if it would open, but it was locked. 

"Damn," he said and turned back to look at Jack, who was giving him a half-smile. 

"So, we're stuck here, huh?"

John raised an eyebrow, looking the other man over carefully.

"It appears so."

Jack glanced around, bouncing on his heels. 

"Not much to see, I guess. So... Do you kinda get this weird vibe from this place at all?" 

John looked annoyed and didn't offer a response as he sat down on his cot.

"I mean, do you have any memories? A time before we woke up, anything?" Jack asked and fidgeted on the spot.

John's hands curled into the covers. The thin and worn fabric was well used, and he reasoned he was not the first to sleep on this bed.

Jack rambled on, and John tried to filter out his dribble. No luck there; the man's voice was sharp, loud, and demanded his attention.

".... Like, not just knowledge, cause, I can remember how many planets are in the galaxy and how Elpis is Pandora's moon and how to fire a wrist laser, but beyond that there's nothing."

John said nothing. He stood up and walked to the bathroom and shut the door, blocking out Jack.

"Or, yeah, you can just go to the bathroom too I guess," Jack called. 

John ran his hands through his hair and stared at the cracked mirror. His face was the same as his 'twin'; the same sharp cheekbones and chiselled jawline. He snarled in anger and turned away from the mirror, pacing to the other side of the small room. 

What Jack had said, struck a chord. In truth, he didn't have any memories either. He thought about childhood because he had to have had one of those and found nothing. He thought about school because he knew that all kids had to go to school, but there was nothing. He couldn't conjure an identity of his own, despite logic and reason telling him that he had to have something there.

Yet there was nothing. 

It made his skin crawl. He was stuck in some lab with white walls and a condescending bastard and a blithering idiot as his only companions, and he was down a bastard. He didn't know who he was, or what he was doing here, or why his face matched that of the other men he saw, but something told him it wasn't normal. 

Eventually, John left the bathroom and laid down on his cot, staring up at the white ceiling. Thankfully, Jack had stopped trying to start a conversation with him, so they sat in silence, letting John ruminate further on his predicament. 

At some point, the lights dimmed, and so John lifted the covers and buried himself under the thin protection it offered, shaking through the supposed night. Jack said goodnight and John ignored him. It was bitter, cold and dark, just like his mind, and lack of memories.

The morning may have come, he didn't know. There were no windows, or a clock, least of all an echo to check. A while later, and the door clicked and slid open. 

"Hey, kiddos, how was the first night?" the old Jack asked, beaming brightly. "You don't need to tell me, 'cause I could watch you through the security cameras. You two know how to throw a party."

John pulled away from the blankets and watched the old-Jack intently. The way he spoke was with forced cheer and deliberate emphasis. Like the mention of the cameras, a required detail that spilled out, as if he hadn’t wanted to say it.

“So no mischief now, ok?”

The old-Jack did not talk the way a person should.

John moved to the edge of the bed but kept his distance from the two Jack's.

"Anyways, I need Jack, new-Jack that is." The old-Jack shot a cheeky finger gun towards the newer-Jack. "Cause this handsome man needs to learn how to become even handsomer."

John's jaw clenched at the wording, and even more so when his twin stood up dutifully to follow the older-Jack out the door. 

"Here, in case you get bored or something," the old-Jack tossed John a pencil before closing the door, locking John inside.

John stared at the pencil for a moment, wondering what he was supposed to do with it. He didn't have any paper –

It was then that he remembered the paper in his pocket. He reached the hem of his jeans but paused, remembering the cameras he moved his hand back to his lap, and sat still. 

Who was watching him? And why?

A churning feeling in his gut told him the secrets in his pocket were better left there. He’d wait until night, and read its contents under the covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave comments, it fuels this dumpster fire.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ It's gonna be fucked. Please leave a comment <3 first chapters are always scary to post. I have so much of this written already and I’m very nervous to share.


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